In Love and War
by firewings86
Summary: Oneshot. Post-S1 finale - alternate. Korra opens up to Asami after she loses her bending. Korrasami.


The hallway is no man's land. Asami is safe out here. The chill of Korra's bitterness can't bite her as long as she stays put. She stretches her fingertips toward the door handle. No. That door is the line of fire. A wooden lattice and some thin white paper are the only things keeping her out of a minefield. It's Korra versus the world, and she's about to waltz right into the danger zone. This is crazy.

"Korra?"

No answer, as expected.

Korra's lunch tray sits on the floor untouched. Asami can't remember why she even volunteered to do this.

She's devastated for Korra. It broke her heart to see the life drain from her face when she stepped out of Katara's infirmary. Korra prized her bending above all other aspects of herself, and losing it is, she's sure, a hard pill to swallow. Painful to face, impossible to accept. She doesn't blame Korra for shutting everyone out, for being angry, for lashing out at the unfairness of it all.

But to throw herself to those wolves? It seems ridiculous, now, as she balances the dinner tray on one arm and reaches for the door handle again. One more try.

"Korra?" she says, softer this time. Korra sits facing the far wall, her legs crossed, her back to the door. The muscles in her shoulders tense, but she doesn't say anything. "I, um, brought your dinner." Why is she so nervous? Why does this have to be so hard?

Not a word. The rejection hangs so thick in the air Asami swears she could cut it with a knife. It stings. No_. Wall it out_. She takes a chance and steps into the room and slides the door shut behind herself.

"I know Mako usually brings it, but…" _But I thought I'd spare him your brooding tonight_.

"I'm not hungry," Korra says. Asami's surprised to get a response at all. It's progress, maybe.

"You still need to eat." Slow, tentative. Easy, Asami. Go easy with her. "Even just a little bit. It would mean so much to Pema and Tenzin. They're really worried. I—we all are."

Something metal glints in Korra's hand. Meditation balls. She throws them onto her bed without taking her eyes off the window shutters. "What's the point?" She sounds so tired, so drained.

"The point of eating? Well, for one thing, if you don't eat, you won't be strong enough to start your airbending training back up again."

"I'm not going back into training. I'm not the Avatar anymore. There's no point."

"But if you can still airbend, why can't you—"

"I don't want to be an airbender!" Before Asami has time to react, Korra is on her feet. She wheels around, grabs her pillow and hurls it into the wall. Asami jumps and almost spills the soup. Her heart pounds in her ears.

Korra turns back to the wall, hunched over, her shoulders shaking.

"You wouldn't understand. You don't know what it's like. You're rich, gorgeous. Perfect. You have everything going for you. Bending was all I had going for me. It was my life. It was who I was, and now it's gone. You will _never_ know how that feels." The venom in her voice shocks Asami. She's never seen Korra like this.

She can't help but bristle at the assault. _Count to ten, Asami_. She has a backbone. She's not one to lie down and take it, let Korra walk all over her, but this is a sensitive moment. Don't get defensive, she tells herself. Don't screw this up.

She sets the tray on the floor and takes a few hesitant steps closer. When Korra doesn't move, she lays a hand on her shoulder. Korra is still trembling underneath those hard, wiry muscles.

"You're right. I don't know how it feels to have your bending taken away. But… I do know how it feels to lose something. To lose something… so important to you that you can't imagine life without it." It doesn't hurt as much to think of her mother after all these years, but at the memory of the hatred in her father's eyes right before he slammed a metal claw into the glass protecting her from him—protecting her from her own father—the tears start to brim.

Korra softens.

"I'm"—she falters—"sorry. About your dad."

"Thanks." Asami looks away. It's the first time anyone's said that to her. Everyone's been too focused on Korra to think much about her father. She understands, she really does. The Avatar losing her bending is way bigger than any of her problems. But still, it's nice to hear someone say it.

Korra's shoulders lurch. There's a short, shuddering gasp, and then sobs. _Oh, no_. Seeing Korra cry is like watching a platypus bear try to fly and crash horribly to the ground. Like it can't—shouldn't—happen. Korra is always so strong. She never cries. She doesn't deserve to have to cry. Asami is torn between dread and pity for her. She never wants to have to witness this again.

"Hey," she says, pulling Korra around to wrap her arms around her shoulders. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay." She rests her chin on top of Korra's head and chokes back tears of her own. She doesn't completely make it: a few slide down her cheeks and drop into Korra's hair. Crying is embarrassingly contagious.

Then a miracle happens. Korra laughs. It's a short, sardonic laugh sandwiched between sobs, but a laugh all the same. "Would you look at us?" she mumbles into Asami's shirt.

"I know," Asami says, and she can't help but laugh a little, too. "We're such a couple of girls. The boys would never let us live this down."

"No, I think they'd be too freaked out to ever bring it up again!"

"You're probably right." Both of them laugh again and wipe their cheeks. Asami lets go of Korra and steps back. "Bending isn't who you are, you know," she says suddenly, firmly. "You're so much more than your bending, Korra. You're strong, smart, funny… You're also rash, impulsive, and incredibly stubborn, but that's what makes you you, not your bending. You have a lot of people who care about you whether you're the Avatar or not." Korra nods, taking it all in. Asami gives her shoulder a final squeeze and heads for the door.

"Asami, wait."

Asami looks back. Her heart catches in her throat at the sight of those pleading blue eyes. "Hm?" She rolls the hem of her shirt between her fingers and looks around the room, at the floor, anywhere but Korra's face.

"Why are you being so nice to me? I stole your boyfriend." Blunt, to the point. Asami has always appreciated that about Korra. She pauses, considers her words.

"Did you mean to?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I feel like… I mean, I was jealous, but I didn't mean..."

"Do you love him?"

Korra's eyes widen. "What?"

"Do you love Mako?"

Asami steels herself for the answer. She feels like there's a vise grip around her lungs. Of course she loves him. Mako loves her. She saw him say it outside the infirmary in the South Pole. Why wouldn't Korra love him back? They'd be together and she'd be alone. She'll never admit it, but she's so desperately scared of being alone.

Korra shakes her head.

Asami stares in disbelief. "No?"

Korra shakes her head again. "No," she whispers.

Asami crosses the room. Her footsteps are loud as Equalist explosives on the wood. Everything seems heavy and important and big, so _big _right now, and still she can't shake her relief. She feels like it's wrong to be happy about something as awful as unrequited love, but she can't help it.

Korra stares up at her, her brow pinched in confusion. Asami curls her fingers around the back of her neck and runs her thumb over the soft brown skin where her jaw meets her neck. She rests her forehead against Korra's with a sigh. Korra doesn't resist, just closes her eyes.

She leans down and kisses her. It doesn't last long. It's chaste and gentle, just enough for them to get a taste of each other, painted lips against bare.

"I forgive you," Asami says against Korra's mouth.

She breaks away. She runs out. The trenches are silent behind her.


End file.
